POLES APART
A/N: So many of you dear faithful readers have been so supportive and encouraging towards this humble little tale and (as ironic as it is for me to say this as a writer), I just can't find the right words to express my gratitude. I have not, and will not, give up on this story, however long it takes between updates. I can be having the worst day and then a review or P.M. from one of you amazing followers pops up on my screen and it just warms my heart!
Thank you! I hope this instalment won't disappoint. I love these characters so much as I'm sure you have all guessed, and I will never give up on them! Enjoy!
Chapter 13:
Hannah had indeed returned to her bed after this interlude. She had a horrible feeling that when this great lady returned for dinner she would need all the strength she could muster. She did not think that Mrs. Shaw would want to cause a scene but she would not allow her to intimidate Margaret or cast aspersions about her son's character or the care he had taken over Margaret.
In the end, with all her physical and emotional turmoil, it had taken nearly two hours before she had finally managed to doze off again. Her head was filled with the complete irony of her current situation. After all these months, hoping and wishing for Margaret's removal from Milton she was now fighting against it. Did this mean that she liked Margaret after all?
She didn't think so…though she certainly didn't hate her as she had once done. She knew that she could never truly like her because she had broken her son's heart. Though she had noticed that lately John and Margaret seemed to have reached an uneasy truce. They were civil to each other at mealtimes and even at times friendly. She knew her son too well to doubt his affections. He was not of a changeable disposition. He had tumbled into love with the young girl; broken his heart over her, and she consumed him still.
A flicker of the old jealousy licked at her insides. She had always resented the love he had for Margaret, and perhaps that was all her opinion of the girl had ever been based on. Now, of course, she had gotten to know Margaret a bit better. Her old prejudices had faded considerably as she had begun to secretly admire Margaret's strength. She had seen her at her lowest point but she had also witnessed how even then, she had clawed her way back out of the abyss, (an abyss which Hannah was not unfamiliar with,) and with tenacity, perseverance and courage had been able reclaim her strength of will and ultimately choose to return to the land of the living.
Hannah had been shocked earlier in the parlour as she had heard the words coming out of her own mouth in defense of Miss Hale, yet as she lay prostrate on her bed pondering this marvel she had to admit that in truth she really was rather proud of Margaret, as shocking as this realization was. She would be happy to have her son back, but secretly she wondered if she would ever really have him back – the way it was before he met the Hales and their beautiful daughter?
No; if she was honest with herself, she didn't think her son would ever recover from his heart break. In a way, she almost wished that Margaret could have found it in herself to love John. She knew that Margaret would never be able to find a better husband, and she even thought that despite his anguish it was probably inevitable that John would marry someday, and she would certainly much rather have Margaret as a daughter in law than anyone else she had yet met.
Of course there was still the scandal at Outwood that would not leave her thoughts. Knowing Margaret now a bit better she found it hard to believe her capable of such gross impropriety but then had she not risked further scandal when she had visited John alone in his office in the dead of night, not to mention her headstrong resolution of taking paid employment?
With these riotous thoughts racing through her fevered brain she eventually fell asleep, not knowing what still lay in store for her that evening.
It was nearly dark when John led Margaret though the mill courtyard, their arms still intertwined and instinctively their heads bent towards each other as they meandered over the cobbles, the soft whisperings of their conversation interspersed with odd pauses as each stole furtive glances at the other. Their ignorance of what lay in store for them inside the millhouse was as complete as Mrs Thornton's ignorance as to what had transpired between these two lovers during her nightmarish day.
As they had reached the front door they paused. John released Margaret's arm only to gently grasp her waist to compel her body to face him. He idly brushed a few stray hairs off her cold cheek as his ice blue eyes burned into hers. The heat from the previous night once again raging between what little space remained between their bodies. John was overwhelmed by the need to kiss her, to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. He had spent the whole day dreading the moment when he would have to tell his mother of his betrothal to Margaret but now he couldn't wait to tell her. He couldn't wait for the moment when he could finally claim Margaret as his.
Margaret seemed frozen in his gentle grasp and he could feel his breath becoming more ragged as he started at her, entranced by her hypnotic stare and the glorious curve of her waist beneath his ravenous hands. Feeling himself to be in imminent danger of losing his ever diminishing grasp on propriety he hastily released his hold on her and turned the knob of the front door.
Their passion-filled bubble seemed to pop as they entered the house as they were almost immediately accosted by Dixon. It seemed she had been lying in wait for her mistress's return to apprise her of her aunt's overdue arrival in Milton and of their imminent rescue from their ruinous fate! However, as the couple had entered the house together and she didn't want to risk offending Mr. Thornton, she was not able to express to the full, her joy and excitement of their foreseeable escape. But whilst having to contain her enthusiasm she still managed to relate the most important aspect of her tidings, which was the arrival of Mrs. Shaw and the news that she would be dining with them that very night at Mrs. Thornton's invitation.
Of course, Mrs. Thornton had not felt the need to regale the hired help with all the minute details of her heated exchange with their great London visitor, but she had informed Dixon of her coming for dinner and requested that she ensure that the best possible meal be prepared for their guest. Life may have knocked them down a few rungs on the social ladder but she would not present anything less than the best to Margaret's Aunt, a sentiment that was shared by the redoubtable maid, as she had spent all morning at the market and all afternoon in the kitchen to ensure that only the highest standard of fare would be set before Mrs. Shaw; who after all, was accustomed to only the most exclusive drawing rooms and the most sought after dinner invitations.
Dixons excitement seemed to have clouded her otherwise sharp eyes for she hadn't seemed to notice how upon entering the mill house, the two lovers hands had been touching ever so slightly, or how upon relating her news, the two lovers had hastily glanced at one another, their features lit with consternation and fear. She had simply whisked Margaret away as soon as her news was told, and dragged her up to her chamber where a she had prepared a basin of hot water and where she had laid out her mistresses best frock which she had spent all afternoon ironing.
John had watched his beloved being towed up the stairs. She had glanced over her shoulder as Dixon lead her away, a beseeching look of distress and sadness on her face. But once she had disappeared from view he didn't waste any more time, but ran up the stairs, taking two at a time in his stride, as he hastened towards his mother's chamber.
At the same moment of their arrival, Mrs. Thornton was in the process of combing her unruly tresses into her usual neat style; not quite as elegant as Dixons handy work, but it would have to suffice. She had slept most of the day and had awoken only a short while before the lovers had returned home. Her body still ached somewhat but thankfully her head felt much clearer and she hoped that she would be able to make it through the evening with tolerable ease – at least as far as her influenza was concerned.
She had just finished dressing her hair and was in the process of pinning a rather elegant pearl brooch onto the front of her gown when her ministrations where interrupted by a soft but urgent knocking on her chamber door.
"Come in," she called as she stood up and straightened the pleats of her silk skirts.
She wasn't very surprised to see her son step over the threshold. He was home rather early but she knew that he would be bound to seek her out as soon as he was made aware of the identity of their dinner guest.
"Hello Mother," he greeted as he stepped forward and gave his mother a kiss on her wan cheek. His mind was a riot of thoughts and emotions but he dutifully enquired as to her state of health and whether she had been able to get any rest.
She answered his polite enquires in the affirmative and assured him that she hoped she was finally on the mend.
He seemed to only take in half of what she was saying and when she was finished he nodded curtly and sat down on the edge of her bed.
"Is it true that Margaret's Aunt is to be joining us for dinner?" he asked, as matter-of-factly as he could muster.
"Yes," she replied, "she called on me this morning and after I reluctantly related the nature of Margaret's employment and informed her that Margaret would only be home later, I deemed it best to invite her to dine with us so that she may have a few private words with her niece after dinner." She guiltily omitted certain of the details their conversation.
"Was she appalled?" he enquired cautiously.
"She was….less than pleased, but to be honest she appears to live in a world of ballrooms and dress fittings so I'm sure she would have been just as shocked to see how Miss Hale had been used to live even while her parents were still alive."
"Perhaps…," was all he offered in reply.
She watched him in silence as he sat on the edge of her bed staring blankly at the floor. She could see he had more to tell her and she didn't want to rush him.
"I assume that she plans on taking Margaret back with her to London?" His tone was hesitant and the words were almost uttered in a whisper, as if it were too painful to hear them spoken out loud.
"I am as ignorant as you are my Son. As I was not feeling at all well, and as she had been frustrated in her desire to speak with her niece, I thought it best to delay our interview until tonight when she may have the opportunity to speak with Margaret first and then we may find out what Margaret would like to do. I don't know what her plans for Margaret may be, but I know enough of Miss Hale to know that she will not submit meekly to any of her Aunts arrangements - unless of course she feels that she may be less of a burden to her Aunt than she would be to us."
Her words were followed by silence. She continued to stare at John and John continued to stare at the carpet between his boots.
"I don't have much to offer her mother…" he stammered out at last. The pain of the truth in his mother's words forced his own to catch in his throat. He truly believed that she did love him but yet his old insecurities and the hurt from her first refusal of his hand seemed to burn in his chest; like white hot wires were wrapped around his heart searing and cutting into that vital organ with each frenzied beat.
"John…" she stated cautiously. Every hair on her head seemed to stand up as the meaning behind his words penetrated her mind. "Please don't do this to yourself. She has hurt you once before."
His lips twisted slightly as if tempted to smile at some pleasurable memory, and when he replied his words were soft and reverent.
"Not this time Mother. I repeated my offer and she has accepted me. Indeed she says she loves me, that she has loved me for many months. I understand your incredulity Mother, truly I do. Indeed even I couldn't credit my own ears when her beautiful soft lips uttered the words my tortured heart had been so longing to hear; but I do now. She loves me and whilst I know she deserves so much more than I could ever give her, and certainly much more than I have to offer right now, I can't let her go now that I finally have her! I can't Mother! I know that I probably should, but how can I, when I have longed for this for so long?" He was still staring at the carpet while he spoke but at this last question he raised his tormented eyes to look at Hannah, urgently seeking her approval, or support or he knew not what.
Hannah was incredulous, she was in fact struck dumb by his proclamation. She knew that her son and Margaret had seemed to reach some sort of agreed upon friendship but she never could have imagined that the girl had ever cherished any tender feeling towards her son, and certainly not 'love'!
"When? How? How did I not see this or know of this…transformation?" she finally managed to choke out.
"Please don't be upset Mother. I was so blinded by my own self-pity that I didn't notice the thaw her heart had undergone towards me either."
"But when, John, when did you discover it? Don't tell me that she was as ill-bred and presumptuous as to declare herself to you? Though I suppose after so public and perverse a display on the platform of Outwood station I should not wonder at her boldness if she did!"
"No Mother, please do not be so unkind and prejudiced towards her," he hissed in reply. "Margaret is an innocent. She has wished to speak with me for many months to explain the misunderstanding which persisted to plague me and which haunted her. After the many disastrous encounters we have already had she didn't believe that I would ever forgive her enough to renew my addresses, but she could no longer bear the thought of my viewing her in such a jaded light. It was when she opened up to me, (and I finally listened) that I detected a warmth and a bashfulness which hadn't been there before."
His cheeks seemed to heat slightly at the memory of her face and the discovery that she had secretly purloined his leather gloves so as to keep a constant reminder of his declaration of love with her always, to give her comfort. His mind and heart were racing but there would be many a moment to reminisce over the previous night's delirious encounter, at this moment time was short before Mrs. Shaw's arrival and if he had any chance of holding onto the woman he loved he needed to get his mother on his side.
"The man with whom she was seen to be upon such intimate terms with at Outwood station was her own brother. His existence was kept secret as he had evidently been in exile in some distant country and had only returned to England to say his last goodbyes to their dying mother. He couldn't be seen or be known to be residing with his family for fear of his life. He is wanted for mutiny and thus had to be hidden and secreted out of Milton in the dead of night to avoid detection."
"Dear God, John! A secret brother…Mutiny? What sort of family is this? And you wish to align yourself with this? With this scandal and treachery?"
"Of course he is innocent Mother! Could you suspect that Mr. Hale, such a devout man of faith, would have borne to entertain a wanted felon in his own home even if the man were his own son? I don't have the time to go into all the details with you now, but I promise I shall relate all to you, only believe me when I say he was not guilty of the crime for which he was accused! But other than his own testimony and that of a few other officers who all face the same charges there is no proof to clear him, save for the word of his superior officer who is the very man determined to condemn him to death rather than admit the truth. As for Margaret, she has had no hand in any of this infamy save to keep her brothers whereabouts secret and to smuggle him back on the train for London after their mother's passing in order to preserve his life. She has had to bear so much Mother, if only you knew. If only I had known then what I know now. I love her so very much Mother. Please try to accept that."
"I shall need to hear the entire tale before you ask that of me John for the story seems too preposterous to credit. But to see my only beloved son throw himself away on such an undeserving…." But John cut her off before she could finish her sentence.
"No Mother, I am the one who is undeserving! My pride couldn't accept her refusal of my offer and instead of trying to assist her or attempt to understand and sympathise with the burdens she had to bear all on her own, I condemned her and ignored her at a time when she could dearly have used a friend. I was so lost in my own selfishness and self-pity that I didn't even see the hurt and worry that she was struggling through, and yet she had time to spare to think of those even less fortunate than herself . She befriended the woebegone wretches and toilers of Milton, poor workers from my own factory, and cared for them and offered them food and friendship. She is not undeserving just because she refused me; she was overwhelmed and lonely and I should have been a better friend to her – it was I who was underserving of her love or her hand." He shook his head slightly in bitter reproach of his past actions.
"But thankfully she has forgiven me and through some miracle has in fact fallen in love with me! Truly, I never could have imagined such happiness! I won't let her Aunt take her away now. I can't live without her. I won't!" He knew he sounded like a petulant child but the heat and emotion which seemed to radiate out of him could not be contained.
His mother saw the raw emotion etched on his face, in fact she could almost feel it roiling around her like a storm, making the air thick and heavy. She knew him well enough to know that in such a passion there would be no reasoning with him; she must try and calm his agitated nerves.
"That may be, but as you yourself have stated John, you haven't much to offer her. Despite your, or her, feelings on the subject, Mr. Bell and Margaret's Aunt are her rightful guardians and they may still refuse their consent. And I must say I am rather in sympathy with them though perhaps for disparate reasons."
"But in recent weeks you have seemed to befriend Margaret. Surely you cannot think so poorly of her as you once, in ignorance, did?"
"Perhaps I had begun to warm to her strength of character but after all you have related I don't know what to think John. What has brought about this change of heart in her? Is she not just lonely and reaching out for companionship? Could it truly be that she has cherished these feelings for you for months but believed you to be indifferent to her?" she let out a derisive hiss. "Who could look at your face when Margaret was in the same room as you and believe that you could possibly be indifferent to her?"
Hannah's words hurt her son. He had not given much thought to the idea that Margaret had only reached out to him because she was scared and lonely. No – he wouldn't allow himself to believe it. She loved him, he knew it, and he felt it in her kiss and saw it raging in her usually soft eyes.
"I know not mother, but she is artless and modest and after the way I last spoke to her in my office she could not have believed it possible for me to still be in love with her and therefore worth pursuing. But irrespective of the reasons is it not enough that she has had a change of heart?" he asked, desperate for her final approval.
Hannah signed and her shoulders slumped but before she could answer her son however their tête-à-tête was interrupted by a gentle rapping at the door.
"Oh for heaven's sake! What could it be now?" asked Mrs. Thornton quietly, her hand reaching up to rub her aching brow; irritation and exasperation with the day's events threatening to bring about a relapse.
The door opened fractionally to reveal Margaret standing on the threshold looking coy but resolute. "I am sorry to interrupt you Mrs. Thornton but I wanted to talk to you, if you could pleaes spare me a few minutes?"
John was seated at such an angle that when the door first opened he had not been able to see who was standing on the other side but at these words he jumped off the bed, crossed the room in one stride and pulled the door wide open. Margaret had jumped slightly at having the door wrenched open in front of her but she had a feeling she might find John inside the chamber.
"You may be easy my dear Margaret, I have related the whole to my mother." As he spoke these words he reached out and lovingly took hold of her hands, which she had been idly ringing as she had stood in mute supplication before Hannah Thornton. He gently led her into the room and closed the door behind her. She wasn't sure if these tidings were a relief or a distress to her but there wasn't much that could be done about it now except plunge forward.
Dixon had finished Margaret's toilette all whilst muttering away about how God had spared them and how Mrs. Shaw was an angel sent directly from above to rescue them. But after pinning a few stray hairs on Margaret's head she had left Margaret momentarily and gone downstairs to receive Mrs. Shaw who had arrived only moments before; as such Margaret had seized her opportunity to quickly run to Mrs. Thornton's chamber and apprise her of recent developments in the hopes of maybe gaining an ally. That John had preempted her of course saved valuable time.
She gripped his fingers in mute but tender reply before turning her head towards Mrs. Thornton to determine what affect his words had had on this formidable lady. Hannah's stern gaze was purposefully averted from the lover-like scene taking place before her, it was instead transfixed by some unseen force hovering just outside the grimy window pane.
She didn't want to look at them, or acknowledge their union but she could feel John's eyes on her now too, not just Margaret's; and so hesitantly she turned her head to face them. Both John and Margaret stood almost motionless just watching her, waiting for they knew not what...Support? Permission? Castigation? She realized that their fingers were still gently intertwined and their shoulders were touching in their effort to stand as close as possible to each other. Their faces looked pleading but also resolute.
She sighed heavily, her mind a frenzy of doubt, jealousy, sadness; but she was luckily spared the need to answer their mute entreaty by the fortuitous arrival of Dixon, who rapped imperiously on the chamber door before loudly clearing her throat and speaking to that closed portal.
"I beg your pardon Mrs. Thornton, but Mrs. Shaw has arrived and I have shown her into the parlour."